Summer was a time for an instrument of the head.
We learned tactics in the streets with the neighborhood kids,
like the cool cats carrying their composure before unleashing their unruly unload of water balloons and water guns.
Summer in Idaho, every summer. I was taught to write every experience, because of a moment.
The moment of which I learned to capture a time on a sheet of paper.
Where kids had cameras and secrets, I somehow carried a pen stuffed between the pages of a notebook;
as a novelist, as a reporter I believed myself to be.
Beautiful it was to sing a song about a flower as child and write it down to remember,
the color of the petals, how I loved that flower.
As I grew up, I learned of the talent that I had obtained.
Gifted in the grace of singing and learning that a simple poem is much more than a simple line on a paper.
Every song I sang, was a poem. Every story I told, was a stanza that I couldn't understand until my senior year of high school.
Summer as a child had taught me the life I knew I was going to obtain.
One of great memories through a pen,
Through my voice,
Through my poem.